Loyalty, Family, and Deadliness
by The Seven of Us
Summary: [Fury's Stresses 4] Fury's eradicated HYDRA, been warned off of recruiting Percy Jackson by everyone from Thor to the seventh floor janitor, and celebrated a lost demigod's life with more demigods and a few Egyptian magicians. He understands the (Greek) demigods and the magicians—but what's Thor got to do with this? By Ruby.
1. Loyalty, Family, and Sleep Deprivation

**Loyalty, Family, and Deadliness: [Fury's Stresses 4] Fury's eradicated HYDRA, been warned off of recruiting Percy Jackson by everyone from Thor to the seventh floor janitor, and celebrated a lost demigod's life with more demigods and a few Egyptian magicians. He understands the (Greek) demigods and the magicians—but what's Thor got to do with this?**

* * *

"Jackson."

"Yes, Director Fury?"

"From my understanding, you aren't a sovereign."

The demigod actually looked up. "Hades, no. Who's calling me Prince now?"

Fury shifted his stance. Obviously, this happened fairly often for Jackson to hit the nail on the head. "Thor."

The black-haired teen snorted. "Of course. Oh, Thor. It's nothing major, Director. I am the son of the god of the sea. I am called Prince of the Sea because of my parentage. Jason and Thalia are Prince and Princess of the Sky. Nico…well, Nico is weird. He's called Ghost King. I think Hades doesn't like Melinoe, and fires her whenever possible."

"Jackson, I am not a demigod," Fury barked. "I don't know who the hell Melinoe is, or how this relates to being called Ghost King is weirder than the rest of the shit you demigods practically dive into."

"I swear, it's not on purpose," Jackson defended. "I don't go and look for trouble. It literally comes and finds me!" He paused. "Melinoe is the goddess of ghosts. She imitates who you regret the most. The term 'ghosts of the past'? That was based off of her. The title Ghost King is weird for demigods because this means that their godly parent basically gave them a piece of their kingdom for as long as they're alive. Nico's powers could range from summoning riches and hellfire to summoning spirits and raising skeletons to wage war. Titles, in the demigod world, _mean_ something. The title Ghost King? Well…he had pretty good control over the deathly aspects of his powers. Now those powers are essentially multiplied threefold, at least."

"Okay. And while we're on the topic of princes and kings, how _did_ you meet Thor?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Um…I don't really know how to explain it."

Fury sat down in a chair. "I got all night. Although, I brought paperwork if you bore me."

The demigod slowly sat back, playing with a cup full of ice. "I really seriously doubt it. This one was a weird one, even for me."

Fury sat forward. "Continue."

He tapped his index finger once on the table. "I suppose it started about two months ago. I was still eighteen. The Giant War and Reboot!Civil War had ended less than a year before and things were still chaotic. Annabeth and I had regular morning calls. She missed one, and I looked into it. Turns out that she was missing, period."

His middle finger hit the table, as if making a second point. "The last time someone important went missing, it was because of the gods. I immediately stormed Olympus to find out what idiot had taken her. For once, the Olympians were innocent."

His eyes turned haunted, and his ring finger tapped the table once. "I found her four days later, dying in Camp Half-Blood's woods. She had been gutted. It was a horrible, painful way to die. All I could remember was her eyes. She died, I caused an earthquake. It killed five people."

Pinky finger hit the table almost savagely. "I was dragged to Olympus, almost comatose with grief. The thing about fame—it's a fickle thing. I was a hero for a month, and then I was a villain for a grief-stricken mother. I was tried by a kangaroo court and stripped of my powers, and almost literally drop-kicked from Olympus. In terms of distance that you might be able to imagine: imagine five Empire State Buildings, stacked on top of each other. Then get kicked off of them."

"You're dead."

"I almost died when I tried to create a hurricane to slow myself down," Jackson said grimly. "I passed out while still in the air—I can't even remember where, I could have been a story from the ground, I could have been three hundred stories from the ground. Hitting the ground actually woke me up, though."

"You are really supposed to be dead."

"I know," Jackson agreed. "I woke to this brunette leaning over me and saying—"

 _"Dude, that was a_ hardcore _thump. How the hell are you still alive? How is he still alive? I sucked at Physics, but I'm pretty sure that defies the laws of physics. Like, all of them. Including the ones that you're rewriting, Jane. Hey, do you need a hospital? Because you're kind of covered in blood."_

 _Percy groaned and rolled over. "Could you_ shut up _?"_

 _"Ignore her, I do," said the blonde. "I only have two questions for you: one, are you related to Thor? And two, do you need medical assistance?"_

 _Percy blinked and heaved a breath. "No, and probably. Oh, gods— Help me sit up."_

 _"Uh, you probably shouldn't move if it hurts," the blonde said skeptically._

 _"And you're all for doing the healthy thing, Miss Ninety-pounds-soaking-wet?" Percy snarled. "Now help me up, gods_ damn _—"_

 _Percy cut himself off before he swore out loud—well, too much._

 _"Are you sure you aren't related to Thor?" the blonde pressed while hauling him into a sitting position._

 _"Yes!" Percy snapped. "Related to a god, yes, related to a Norse god, no. Shut up and give me a moment to clear my head."_

 _"What god are you related to?"_

 _Percy grabbed her by her shirt and hauled her away from him. "Listen, lady, I just had my girlfriend die in my arms, tried by her family, stripped of my powers, and given a week to pack up and say goodbye to my home. I'm traumatized, bloody, and about three words from someone else's mouth to being straight up murderous. Do you_ really _want to push my buttons?!"_

 _The brunette let go of him. "I'm saying no. And so are you, boss lady."_

"Lewis," Fury snorted. "That girl is an acid trip of pop culture."

"I was about three steps away from being delirious, and she wasn't helping," Jackson agreed. "Not to mention the shock and the blood loss."

Fury grimaced. "So you met Thor through Foster?"

"In a sense," Jackson said. "Jane and Darcy got me home. Will—Dr. Solace, to you—and Nico helped me through it. It had been a couple of weeks before that whole shebang that I had the dream and called you."

"Why was it necessary to call from a burn phone, and not let anyone know who you were?" Fury asked curiously.

"Several reasons," Jackson said. He tapped the table in an erratic rhythm. "First, I had no idea how far HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD, and whether or not they had bugged your phone. I wasn't really concerned about myself or my friends—we generally have a lot more training than most SHIELD operatives. So letting them know that an outside party had eyes on the situation was an acceptable risk that Will convinced me to take. But, HYDRA isn't exactly subtle when it moves against people. I didn't want my entire building block blown up just because I happened to tip you off. That would have been irritating to deal with. Also, reason number two, phones and demigods? We don't go well together. Demigods using wireless signals is kind of like sending up a flare to all the monsters, saying 'I'm here! Come and eat me!'"

Fury eyed the still-teen. Massive amounts of explosives dismissed nonchalantly.

"Reason number three involved the fact that you weren't aware of the Greek pantheon," Jackson said frankly. "And honestly, you had enough on your plate with HYDRA without the added headache of…us. I give _myself_ headaches sometimes, so I'd hate to be on your side of the table."

"Thanks," Fury said dryly.

Jackson ignored the sarcasm. "Reason number four was a little petty, but there's not a one of us that like being called the children of the gods. We as a society are very much like SHIELD: a large group of people who quietly deals with the disasters, alters the media to suit our needs, and very secretive. If at all possible, we like to be left alone."

"So Thor's an anomaly," Fury said.

"Thor's an honest-to-Zeus _alien_ ," Jackson retorted. "Of _course_ he's an anomaly."

Fury looked at him.

"No," Jackson said. "Your looks don't work on me. Admittedly impressive, but on a scale from Bessie to a P.O.'d Hades, you still rank below Kronos."

Fury didn't know who Bessie was, but he knew who Hades and Kronos were. "Golly, and I thought I could have outranked a Titan, at least," he said, his voice dryer than the Mojave Desert.

Jackson quirked a smile. "Yes, Thor is an anomaly. A friendly anomaly, so we're fine with him. And yeah, we've had a few unfriendly anomalies. Just ask Carter about the alligator."

"Somehow, I doubt that I will."

Jackson snorted. "What, you don't like sewage and Nerf guns? It's a _riveting_ tale."

"Ignoring your sarcasm for the moment—to clarify, you have no powers at the moment?"

"Oh, no, I do," Jackson said. "Let me finish my story."

Fury had the insane urge to rip out his nonexistent hair.

"To be fair, there wasn't much more to the story until about two weeks ago," Jackson said. "I was sent into a coma because I overdid it with my limited powers in downtown Manhattan. Because the Fates have a sense of humor, Jane and Darcy picked me up and dragged me to their house. There must have been a miscommunication between the Fates and Thantos, though, because I distinctly remember kissing Annabeth senseless."

"Jackson, if you're lying to me—"

"Director," Jackson said sharply, cutting him off. "Why on Earth would I lie to you about being dead? No doubt you've seen weirder crap from your superhero team."

Fury considered the Avengers for a moment. "Genius engineer, guy on seventy years of ice, actual alien god, giant green rage monster, one with ridiculous accuracy that is one of yours anyway, and a spitfire ex-Russian assassin that may or may not kill us all in our sleep. I've encountered another genius engineer, a creepy kid who spent seventy years in a _casino_ , an Egyptian god, a Cyclops, and seven other kids with ridiculous accuracy."

Jackson obviously had to think about it. "I don't think we have an assassin. Well, besides Clint. Certainly not a _Russian_ assassin."

"Back to the story," Fury said.

"Right," Jackson sighed. "Well, I got jerked out of the Underworld by a bucketful of water. Jane had apparently put my tattoo," he exposed his right forearm, where there were two black stripes, the letters SPQR, and a trident across the length of it, "and our previous encounter together and came up with a fairly accurate answer. Of course, by the time that I woke, they'd dumped a dozen buckets of water over me, two weeks had almost passed, and Thor was there to supervise and make sure I didn't accidentally kill Jane and Darcy upon awakening."

"And did you try to kill them?" Fury asked.

"Which time?" Jackson asked, snorting. "The time after they jerked my very dead soul out of the Underworld, broke every binding on my powers, and leveled their living room? The time after they jerked my half-dead soul out of the Underworld immediately after I witnessed my wife's very dead soul being kidnapped out of the Underworld? Or the time after Thor kicked my _podex_ and was given a gentler waking than water to the face?"

Fury wasn't even sure where to start with the majority of the problems, so he started with, "' _Podex_ '?"

"Butt," Jackson said, a wry smile on his face. "In Latin. The actual butt with all the connotations with it. No ' _gluteus maximus_ 'es from us. Calling someone else a butt is a different word, though."

Fury sighed almost inaudibly. "Okay, leaving the butt conversation behind. The timeline should be almost up to today, correct?"

"Two days ago," Jackson agreed. "Waking up and passing out again three different times in the space of six hours is irritating, don't ever do it."

"Noted," Fury said dryly.

"Anyway," Jackson said. "It was traumatic for everyone around, and probably the neighbors, too. Thor kept me contained when it was necessary, Darcy didn't tazer me, and I didn't kill anyone. All was good. After I got some food, promised to pay for their new couch, and managed to find my baggie of drachmas to call everyone I knew, I went over to Central Park. There's an opening to the Underworld there, in case you didn't know."

"No, Jackson," Fury said, his voice even drier than before. "I didn't know that."

"Would you like some water?" Jackson asked, looking concerned.

"No, I'd like you to finish the story," Fury said.

Jackson shrugged. "Okay. Annabeth's kidnapper turned out to be Amora, who apparently has the hots for Thor and suddenly found out that Thor and I knew each other. Nico, Thor, and Annabeth kicked quite a bit of sorceress around Central Park until they got bored and shipped her off back to Asgard for breaking the treaty between the Death gods in a mutual pact of non-interference. Hades later told me to not let Annabeth set foot within major Greek Death hubs, otherwise she would drop dead where she stood. The end. Annabeth is in the hospital right now, I'm paying bills and being disturbingly normal and adult, and Nico gets the fun part in ordering pizza and scaring the mortals with his creepy doll appearance."

"There was an incident in Central Park?" Fury said in disbelief. "In full view of everyone, and no one has noticed?"

Jackson laughed. "Remember that Mist that I told you about?"

"Of course," Fury sighed. "Why is Annabeth in the hospital? Don't you have something to help her yourselves?"

"We do," Jackson said. "And normally we would patch her up and let her friends and family take care of whatever mental problems that she probably doesn't have, but the Apollo cabin doesn't take care of pregnant women, normally, let alone pregnant women who were dead for a month and a half. There was also the fact that she was legally dead and therefore had to be unregistered as dead."

Fury had to sit and think for a moment. This…kid? Demigod? Was nineteen with a wife and a kid on the way.

"You never expected to make it this far," Fury said quietly, in an uncharacteristic and almost nonexistent show of compassion.

"Did you miss the stories about previous funerals?" Jackson asked, laughing quietly. "My first was a fourteen. I blew up a volcano, was blasted out the top, and crash-landed on a mythical island with one of the only friendly sorceresses in all of history. I came back just in time to crash my own funeral, as they were burning my shroud."

"How many people did you freak out?" Fury asked, a wry grin tugging on his lips.

"Oh, just about…everyone," Jackson said, grinning a little. "They got used to it after the third time. They learned to wait. Admittedly, the longest that they waited for me to not be dead was eight months, and even my Mom didn't actually see me alive until almost a full year afterwards."

"Now that's a story that I'll have to hear when I have more time," Fury said, standing.

Jackson's smile was self-deprecating. "Forgive me if I don't walk you to the door. I can't walk without assistance for the moment."

Fury did a double take. He'd not seen Jackson stand yet during this visit, granted, but the demigod didn't appear to be extremely tired or even severely injured.

"Being stripped of my powers, dying, coming back to life, and blowing through my bindings is a lot harder than it seems," Jackson said quietly.

Fury smirked. "You should swap stories with Coulson about funerals."

"I'll send you a note when the next inter-pantheon meeting shows up," Jackson said. "SHIELD has enough ties to the mythology world that it would be stupid to not invite you guys."

The front door creaked when it swung open, halfway through Jackson's statement. "And despite some of the things that he does, he's not _actually_ stupid," di Angelo said cheerfully, holding a stack of pizzas with one hand.

He was followed by Solace, who had several smaller boxes that Fury would bet were some kind of breadsticks. Gardner held a clear bowl of salad with both hands and a bottle of dressing under one arm. Another kid Fury didn't know held an open case of Sprite cans, and appeared to be munching on one of the cans.

"Don't get up, Percy!" the kid Fury didn't know said cheerfully. "We're just invading your apartment. Don't mind us."

An older woman bumped the door open again as it began to swing shut. She held a large bowl of cookie dough under one arm and a baking sheet in one hand, cooking spray in the other. "Percy, there's a man saying that he knows you and would like to see you."

"Do you know him?" Jackson asked. "Never mind, stupid question. Go ahead and let him in."

La Rue came in next, propping the door open with a foot, two liters of root beer under each arm and a bag of Doritos hanging from one hand. Rogers, surprisingly enough, came in next.

"You two know each other?" Fury said, slightly surprised.

"Sorta," Jackson and Rogers said simultaneously.

"Steve normally works more with me than Percy," di Angelo said. "We met two years ago, when Percy was on his…forced vacation via Hera."

La Rue's lips curled into a silent snarl as she set the root beer and chips on the counter.

"He scared the crap out of me when he casually decapitated a _dracaena_ with that shield of his," di Angelo said dryly.

"I knew a couple demigods in the war," Rogers said, looking at Fury. "I already knew about demigods from Earth. All of the Howling Commandos knew how to kill a monster, even without Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold."

Di Angelo shook his head again. "We were okay once I got over the fact that this perfectly normal mortal knew about demigods _and_ was able to take monsters apart with nothing but a shield that wasn't even demigod make."

"Oh yes, don't tell them about how you confirmed that I was mortal," Rogers said sarcastically.

Di Angelo suddenly turned sheepish. Jackson burst out laughing. "Nico! You didn't?!"

"I did," he admitted.

"You stabbed me in the neck, is what you did!" Rogers said, laughing.

Fury had to leave before he got infected with the demigod madness that had already infected Rogers.

"Jackson—let me know if SHIELD needs to clean up the mess. Good job on not dying."

 _I am out of here._

* * *

 **So, I meant to post this last Friday. I completely forgot about it until Wednesday, then I said, "oh well, I'll just post it next Friday" (aka, yesterday). As you can see, that didn't work. Also, I just rewrote the last...about half of it, so about a thousand five hundred words. This does have another part to it, featuring Steve and Percy weirding out Fury. That one's going to be really short, but I had a ton of fun writing it. I'm probably going to add a mini quest to that chapter and have some headbutting going on, because everything isn't always going to be sunshine and daisies.**

 **I'll post that next Friday (I'll even set an alert about it...) and then I'll post Loyalty, Family, and Liveliness. **

**Toodles!**

 **Ruby**


	2. Loyalty, Family, and Storytelling

Less than a week later, Fury found Jackson sparring with Steve Rogers. They were trading stories between blows and blocks, breathless laughter and the occasional half-choked sob echoing off the dusty rafters.

"So we get done with this mission in literal hell," Jackson grunted, a slight grin on his face, "and she turns—" he ducked under Rogers swing and attempted to retaliate, "to me and asks if I wah— _NT_ —you know, I don't like being caught by your blows," he wheezed, "asks if I want burgers at McHale's."

Rogers laughed, right before he got an elbow to the solar plexus. "And you're still—" he danced out of the way of Jackson, "you're still in hell?"

"Hell, we're still in Hades's palace," Jackson laughed, stepping in and trading quick blows and blocks with the older man.

"Well, I never— _oof_ —actually went to hell," Rogers said, panting.

"It's actually really boring," Jackson said. He dodged a blow, angling his body so that Rogers's swing glided by barely half an inch away from its target. "Definitely not prime vacation spo _-ot_."

Rogers laughed, both at the sarcasm and the successful jab. "No missions in hell, but there was this one thing in Minsk, HYDRA had some kind of zombie dinosaur thing."

"Oh, the things that Nico could do from that idea," Jackson sighed, gracefully twirling out of the way. "Never tell him this story, by the way. We don't need a zombified _Jurassic Park_."

Rogers swung low, kicking out with his feet. "Well between HYDRA forces and that—" Rogers hit the floor, away from Jackson's spinning kick, and twirled in a way that definitely imitated a breakdance move, "—stupid dinosaur thing, we were losing rather badly until Dum Dum somehow got ahold of the tank—" Jackson broke, staggering away to laugh, "—that they had." Rogers backed off and tossed a bottle of water to Jackson. "I later found out that he had Howard on the radio who walked him through how to control it."

"So here I am, standing in the middle of this warzone with at least six different things going on right in front of me and another dozen behind the scenes and I have absolutely no idea of what's going on," Rogers laughed. Jackson almost spewed his water. "Next thing I know, I'm on the back of this dinosaur and I just about knock my own teeth out trying to hang on. So Bucky comes up to this dinosaur and we managed to wrestle the head to the ground, where he proceeded to sit on it like it was a damned throne."

Jackson was laughing for real now, to the point that tears streamed down his face.

"And that jerk turns to me and said, 'See, punk, what healthy eatin' will do to ya?'"

And then Rogers collapsed into laughter as well. Jackson was just about dying. Fury personally didn't think that it was that funny, but maybe he missed something from the conversation from before he walked in.

Fury shifted to announce his presence. The two tried to sober up and stand up straight and amazingly failed.

"Sorry, Director," Rogers said, still grinning. "You got a mission for me?"

Fury tossed him the file, the pages fluttering. "How do you two know each other?"

"We don't," Jackson said. "Not really."

"I knew some of his siblings," Rogers said. "And Thor told me to go pound on this guy instead of the poor punching bags."

Jackson tapped Rogers's bicep. "You know, with as much muscle mass as you have, I kind of expected you to move slower."

"Let me tell you about Bucky and moving fast, sometime," Rogers said, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.

"Only if I get to tell you about Kampé," Jackson retorted, leaning against the corner of the ring as Rogers ducked out.

Rogers saluted with the file and a mischievous grin.

"Are you done being a Seaweed Brain yet, Percy?"

All of the hairs on the back of Fury's neck stood straight up as a woman with blonde hair in a wheelchair rolled into the light, a tired smile on her face.

The look on Jackson's face was…ecstatic. He went from looking twenty-five to sixteen in an instant, leaping over the ropes gracefully. "Hey, Wise Girl. You feeling better?"

"You being a dork always makes me feel better," she said affectionately.

Jackson scooped her out of the wheelchair with an ease belied by his physical stature: all limb and lean muscle characteristic of still-growing men. Fury wondered what exactly this woman was capable of healthy, if she was setting off his alarms half-dead.

They whispered together for a moment, Jackson swaying a little and head bent to rest on the crown of his wife's. Knowing what had just gone down—pieces of it, very confusing pieces of it—it was a heart-wrenching slice of demigodly life.

Jackson turned back to Fury, his wife still in his arms.

"Hi," she said, smiling. She poked her husband's ribs with an elbow. "I'd offer to shake your hand but Seaweed Brain won't let my arms loose enough to do much of anything with them. Annabeth Chase-Jackson."

Jackson, for one, looked completely unrepentant. "You died, Annabeth. There was none of the 'almost' shit that gets thrown about every other day. You actually died."

"I did, and I had a grand old time in Elysium, too," Chase-Jackson said calmly. She looked at Fury. "I promise, whatever my husband told you, it wasn't that bad."

Fury privately thought that actually dying was pretty bad, but then, he wasn't a demigod.

"About that," Fury said. "Could you provide me with something…a little less garbled?"

Chase-Jackson looked at Jackson questioningly. Jackson shrugged. "Um…when exactly did you get the spiel about life and death and getting kidnapped somewhere in there?"

"About four days ago," Fury said.

Chase-Jackson looked at Jackson a little harder. "Percy, don't tell me that you talked to the poor Director while running on six hours of sleep that you'd gotten three days before? While doped up on painkillers, your ADHD going wild, injured, and struggling through the various paperwork necessary to undo my legal death?"

Well, shit, no wonder Fury was confused.

Chase-Jackson sighed at Jackson's shrug. She looked at Fury. "Well, the short version, then. Amora is an Asgardian that is better known as the Enchantress, and long before any of us were born, Thor had what probably amounted to an Asgardian one-night-stand with her, and she's been carrying a torch for him ever since. Enter Thor's banishment, his newfound lover and loved, and their collective love-hate relationship with SHIELD."

Fury snorted.

Chase-Jackson grimaced. "Now, Amora was originally going to kidnap—Jane, was it?—and hold her hostage until Thor agreed to Heimdall-knows-what, through a strategically placed intern who was willing to get Jane out of the more heavily-secured places. Only said "intern" was actually a SHIELD agent, who was actually one of HYDRA's fanatics. So Percy here calls you up and tells you to clean house and accidentally and _effortlessly_ unravels her plans for Thor domination."

She sighed. "So, yes, she put out a hit on me, and then doubled it when she realized that I was the wife of _the_ Perseus Jackson, and no, Percy, I didn't know that your mythological fame had made it off-world, either. So, one fell swoop—boom. Savior of Olympus, Prince of the Sea, a whole bunch of other titles that makes Seaweed Brain here sound as pompous and arrogant as Zeus, brought to his knees, and kicking Thor in the solar plexus via his own respect for Percy's deeds and occasional misdeeds. Two birds with one stone." She cocked her head. "Then, of course, the gods did stupid things, as is their wont—I won't go into it, since it isn't applicable anymore—and Amora decides that I make just as good leverage as Thor's lady love, and kidnaps me—as in, my soul—from the Underworld."

"How does that work?" Fury asked.

Chase-Jackson shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I do know that it set off a whole stew of intergalactical diplomatic relations between the gods—apparently there was some kind of pact between death gods to not interfere with the other realms? Honestly, I was dead and without a corporeal body and it gave _me_ a headache."

Fury's lip twitched.

"But she ended up doing some kind of magic to shove me back into my miraculously whole body again and holding me hostage. The cavalry came running, kicked Amora around Central Park like a soccer ball between two players with a grudge, locked her up, shipped her back to Asgard, and I was sent to the nearest hospital for emergency treatment." She paused. "It was a rather dramatic month."

"And that's the short version?"

Chase-Jackson looked amused. "I could have made it shorter. It would have been along the lines of 'scorned lover, ruined plans, unexpected pitfalls, I die, 'oh, I can work with that', I get magicked back to life, and Hurricane Percy', but I thought you would like it to make more sense than Percy's garbled version of a story."

It was definitely appreciated. Then Fury studied the two of them a little closer. She looked inordinately comfortable in Jackson's arms, Fury noted.

"How long have you two been working together?" he asked, giving into his curiosity.

"Seven years," they both answered simultaneously.

"And…training?"

They both looked at each other. "I've been being trained since I was seven, but Percy's been trained the same amount of time that we've been working together," Chase-Jackson said. She looked vaguely uncomfortable. "If you want to be technical, I've been trained to Roll With the Weird since I was born."

Jackson snorted.

Fury looked at them both. "Why is that statement funny?"

"Considering that she was born from her mother's split skull and delivered to her father via a floating, golden cradle?" Jackson said.

"Percy!" Chase-Jackson hissed. "I swear to Pallas, I will throttle you _enthusiastically_ if you bring that up again!"

 _Pallas?_

"Yes, dear."

She elbowed him hard enough that he wheezed, but didn't drop her. The look on Jackson's face was unrepentant and mischievous.

"But seriously," Jackson said, sobering. "Her family is like a mythological magnet. She's a demigod, her cousin is a dead warrior for Valhalla, her uncle wanted to experiment on both her and her cousin, and her younger twin brothers hang out with Puck and an Aztec goddess whose name I'm unable to wrap my tongue around. Her father had a mind-meld with a goddess, her Aunt died to defend her son—who is now that dead warrior in Valhalla—and I'm certain that I've missed someone on the family tree."

"Literally, the only normal person on my family tree is my stepmother," Chase-Jackson said. "It's also the only reason why I hyphenated my name, because if someone needs my help, they'll be looking for a Chase and not a Jackson."

Fury closed his eye. "Jackson…one day, you'll introduce me to someone normal, and I'll finally die."

Of course, the husband and wife couple immediately began bickering over who might possibly be considered normal. Apparently, Jackson's mother and the Oracle were immediately discounted on the counts of raising Percy to be a decent human being as opposed to his various half-siblings or creepy green smoke and snakes reminiscent of Harry Potter.

He would get used to this, Fury promised himself. He'd survived World War II and all the inanities the world had thrown at him since. He could survive a demigodly duo whose match was made in the Underworld—almost literally.

* * *

 **Um...hi? Sorry that this took so long to get out. Next week is finals week for my latest semester, so wish me luck! I do have something in mind for the next installment, but I've yet to write it, so don't hold your breath waiting for it, please. The next two weeks, minimum, will be absolutely cray-cray for me, but I'll see what I can write whilst travelling.**

 **In related news, I've started an account on AO3, under the name of CrimsonWriter. I've set a personal goal to post something every Friday on there. Maybe (probably) not for the same story, but something. Then, when it's finished, I'll post it here. Although, the actual posts might be a bit wacky. I haven't figured everything out yet...**

 **Anyway. Toodles!**

 **-Ruby**


End file.
